


Three feet apart with a polite smile

by Redfoxline



Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Also Noctis is soft for his friends, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt Ignis Scientia, Misunderstandings, Noctis gets a bit hurt but I swear he is alright, Survivor Guilt, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redfoxline/pseuds/Redfoxline
Summary: He didn't know how to fix it.For some reasons, Noctis' Chamberlain hated him, even if he did it politely. Prompto could't figure out why, and it made him kind of angry.It took a little bit more than a year, a Citadel lockdown and Noctis probably dying to get his answer.AKA the story of how Prompto called Ignis 'Iggy' for the first time and learned a King gets more than one Shield.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948477
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	1. Of future shield and friend being hurt

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back!  
> Someday I will reach the style of writing I want. Someday.  
> Until then, pratice makes perfect. So here is my attempt at Whumptober Challenge's prompt "Survivor's guilt".

"So, is being a Shield like a family tradition?"

Noctis shot him a wary look over the table but didn't stop to loudly slurp his slushie. Gladio's movements briefly paused before he raised an eyebrow at him and bit into his enormous sandwich.

"Not...really?"

Ok, did he ask something stupid?

"Really? I thought with your dad being the King's Shield and you being Noctis'..."

"Clarus is my father's Advisor."

“The Amicitia clan has always been close to the royal family but we’ve mostly been bodyguards or Council members,”Gladio supplied. “King Mors appointed him as temporary Shield when King Regis came back from his initiation tour, but it lasted only a few weeks.”

"And Gladio isn't my Shield," Noctis cut in before sending the darkest version of his death glare that Prompto has ever seen towards Gladio. "Never will be, if I can help it."

Prompto could feel the mood souring faster than meat left out of the fridge at the pic of summer.

"So, who was it then?" He asked, hoping for a distraction.

"Hugh, actually I can't remember his name but he was a friend of dad's." Noctis's bad mood evaporated as quickly as it had surfaced. "Dad told me he got hurt in Altissia and he chose to stay."

There was something slightly guarded in his tone, meaning there was a story to be told. Prompto chose not to push it further. He had long learned some stories were better voiced between four walls, especially if historians wrote books about your bloodline.

"Wait...so who's guarding him now?"

"Huh?"

Bewildered looks were fixed on him.

"What?"

Their waitress chose that moment to appear with the bill, and Prompto dropped the subject in favor of fighting Gladio over splitting it in half.

The conversation slipped his mind by the time they emerged from the subway station and arrived at Noctis' apartment, replaced by the now usual feeling of dread sloshing in his stomach along the smoothie he drank earlier in the afternoon. He walked a few steps behind Gladio and Noctis with the distinct sensation of being a prisoner walking the green line, despite his friends banter. The day had reached that time between late afternoon and early evening, which meant the risk of Ignis being in Noctis's apartment was at their highest probability rate.

This shouldn’t have been an issue, except Ignis, for some reasons, hated him.

Or, Prompto himself could write a ten-feet long list of reasons why Ignis might hate him. The problem was, he didn't know which of them specifically had triggered such ire from the man towards him. It didn't matter what Noctis argued to convince him otherwise, Prompto was pretty sure no one received the ‘Ignis-Special-Cold-Shoulder treatment’ like he did. And he had proof.

Since day one, Ignis has never smiled at Prompto. Not directly. At his and Noctis’ antics maybe. Astrals forbid if Prompto tried to chat him up, too. Whenever he ventured in the kitchen, his attempts at small talk ended up being shut down by short and concise answers.

Which could have been interpreted as lack of interest from Ignis’ part, except the man was the ‘King of Diplomats’ (insert Noct mocking voice here). Even the Prince’s most fervent admirateurs were shut down kindly and with a polite smile as a goodbye whenever they tried to bribe Ignis to get some information. Prompto was at least sure of that fact, since half of the girls of their class attempted to get Noctis’s phone number through Ignis since the beginning of this school year. 

But Prompto? If Ignis spared a glance his way, it remained expressionless at best, disapproving at worst. The same glare one would spare at a spiderweb situated too high one the ceiling. One would remove it, but getting out the stool to get rid of it took too much effort.

As expected, Ignis was standing behind the counter when they passed the threshold of the royal apartment. He welcomed his two friends and acknowledged Prompto with a formal greeting.

"You will find lasagna for tonight in the fridge. I added a note with the instructions for the oven."

"Yeah, thanks Specs. Do you stay for dinner?"

Prompto took his time to undo his laces so he could pretend he had a good reason not to take part in the conversation. He could guess what Ignis was going to answer already, because Ignis never stayed whenever Prompto spent the night.

"I'm afraid I can't," Ignis smoothly replied, as per Prompto's predictions. "I have prior commitments."

"OK." Prompto tried very, very hard not to wince at the disappointment peeking through Noctis' flat tone. He had once confessed missing spending time with his oldest friend. His Advisor had supported him during hard times and they shared many interests, but between Ignis super busy schedule and Prompto stealing most of Noctis' free time, Ignis had few occasions to hang out with Noctis as they used to.

He didn't know how to fix it. On one side, guilt submedged him whenever he thought of the distance his presence created between the advisor and Noctis, but failed at seeing what he could do to reduce the gap. On the other side, he kind of wanted to yell at Ignis to remove the big stick he had in the butt and stop avoiding him like the plague. It was not Prompto's fault if the man acted like a child. Maybe he could just grow some balls and just tell how much he hated Prompto in the face, instead of finding an excuse to escape the room whenever he stepped in.

"Remember we have the repetition for the Gifting ceremony tomorrow afternoon at four. I will come to pick you up."

"Sure thing. Wait wasn't that supposed to be at six?"

"Lord Almaticia arrange His Majesty's schedule so we could drop by for tea." Noctis visibly perked up at the news. A phone rang and he glanced at the screen before adding: "Now I believe this is my cue to go. Gentlemen, a good evening."

Gladio ended up leaving with Ignis, the two men chatting about some book Gladio was currently reading, and Prompto let himself drop on the couch.

"So, what's the plan? Lasagna, chemistry and Assassin's Creed?"

"More like chemistry, lasagna and Assassin's Creed, otherwise we will never get any homework done."

It was the right call, since the instructions Ignis had left proved to be to actually cook lasagna and not just reheat it, so they spent the extra forty-five minutes reviewing their work and correcting their rushed answers.

"Hey," Noctis started suddenly, "about earlier..."

"Hum?"

"You know, about my dad's first shield." Noctis had stopped erasing whatever doodles he was drawing in the margin of his textbook and wass now looking at Prompto. 

"Actually the imperial army found out they were in Accordo and went after them, but his Shield was too injured to flee back to Insomnia. An ally hid him, and when he got better he liked the city so much he decided to stay, so he kind of became an underground ambassador between Lucis and Accordo."

"Oh, that's...nice. That he survived, I mean. Not that he got injured," he quickly added. Noctis was staring at him. His face betrayed no expression but his eyes held a strange gleam Prompto couldn't decipher. As if Noctis wass waiting for him to comment.

Was he supposed to? Was Noctis expecting him to say something about his father having to flee? His heart squeezes a little his chest when he thinks Noctis is still expecting Prompto to have that kind of reaction. He thought he knew better by now, being a close friend for more than a year.

But, after all, Noctis had heard people spitting snarky comments about Regis and lost battles all of his life. One could hardly blame him to expect the worse, if only by force of habit.

"The King's Shield is the only position that can be freely refused," Noctis kept going before he could think of a reply," because usually the only way to  **_'step down'_ ** from the position is by dying while protecting the King or when the King dies. We always talk about the King's Shield, but in reality it's the King's  **_Shields._ ** "

"Oh."

For a moment Prompto was at loss at what to say with that kind of information. With Lucis being at war, he knew the dangers looming over the royal family, having heard about several of them by his friend's mouth. Stories that didn't make it to the public; stories involving daemons or kidnappers; stories about close calls and injuries not healing right. He even remembered being denied Sundays to hang out because Noctis had to attend funerals. Until then, he had never realized how unlikely it was for the Shield to survive the King's full reign.

Noctis' rebuttal at Gladio being his future Shield suddenly made much more sense. Never before had he wondered what the position entailed for the one who took it, and he felt awed thinking what it meant for Gladio to wish for this job.

Noctis was still looking like he was waiting for a specific reaction, or maybe some intelligent words.

"Whoa, Gladio really likes you like a brother!"

That exhorted a suspiciously wet laugh from Noctis. The timer went off, saving his friend's nonchalant act.

"Finally, dinner!"

"Yeah, dinneeeer! I'm starving!"

They dropped the subject while Noctis went to retrieve the food and honestly, Prompto was happy they did. He needed time to digest that kind of earth-shattering information.

That, and he couldn't wait to dig into Ignis's lasagna. For all asshole he was, the guy surely could cook like a five-stars chef.

Things turn for the worse three weeks later on Friday night.

The bags of chips on his lap remained untouched. Fingers gripped tight on the remote, Prompto couldn't look away from the news playing in the loop. 

_ 'Prince Noctis and his retenue attacked outside the wall.’ _

Prompto usually didn’t watch TV in the living room. It was too lonely when his parents were gone. He had his own TV in his room anyway, which he mostly used to play video games. But Noctis had insisted Dawn of the Future's graphics were too beautiful and that he would miss the best part of the game on his small screen, so Prompto had hooked his system up in the living room.

He scrambled to his phone, screamed in frustration when his trembling fingers made him miss the combo to unlock his screen twice in a row.

He dialed Noctis's number first.

He let it ring four times before trying for Gladio's. If Noctis was hurt, which he  _ was _ according to the news, he wouldn't be able to answer his phone.

When Gladio didn't pick up, he tried for Ignis. No better luck.

Texts start flowing in. Classmates who know how tight his relationship with Noctis was. Alerts for incoming phone calls kept showing up and interrupting him in the text he was typing to Noctis.

"Leave me the fuck alone!"

In the next two hours, the Citadel went into lockdown. The following press conference barely provided any information. Only that a team sent to clear a patch of monsters outside the wall, which Noctis was joining as part of his combat training, got ambushed and that a Draconian Code was engaged.

It was the start of a long wait.

No one attempted to contact Prompto, but fortunately he had been sufficiently briefed in the past year to know what he was expected to do. He turned off his phone, closed the door and only opened it to welcome his parents back.

He attended school on Monday and stayed in his corner until classes were over, turning away everyone who tried to get any information from him. He wished they could all just go away. Every question asked was a question plaguing him at night, and for which he didn’t have answers..

His mother excused him from school when she saw how that single day messed him up.

"It's the last week before the holiday, anyway," he heard her dismiss the Principal over the phone. "Whatever he misses, he will easily catch up when the school starts again. I am confident things will have quiet down by then."

Words couldn’t express how grateful Prompto felt to have his parents at home. They had rushed back the instant they received the news, his mother fussing over him at every chance she got. They both went the extra mile to keep him entertained, showing him their latest works, enrolling him to help renovate the house, ensuring his mind and his hands always were occupied.

"Don't worry, Promi, everything will be fine in the end," his mother kept promising with a kiss on the forehead, cupping his jaw. "When everything is over, you will turn back and laugh at it all, I promise."

He wanted to believe her. Badly.

But every time the words passed her lips, he could see how she avoided his gaze. They both knew the last time the Citadel went into lockdown, his mother had lost her first husband. Prompto never had the chance to know him, since she had adopted him five years after, and by then she had already been dating his father.

Her words of comfort sounded empty, yet he clinged onto them like a lifeline, pretending to ignore how none of his calls were returned.

Ignis called on their fixed line ten days after the debacle.

"I am calling with only good news to share," Ignis said as preamble. He sounded utterly exhausted, if Prompto was honest, even if some warmth peeked through his usual, unflappable tone.

"Noctis's fife is no more in danger." Prompto breath stuttered, and he seriously had to hold the sob threatening to pass his lips out of sheer relief. 

"The Citadel will hold a Press Conference regarding his health and the circumstances of the attack this evening. I was hoping to tell you more in person, if you're amenable?"

"Y-Yes, please! When can I meet you?"

"I am off duty until further instructions, so whenever you can spare the time will be fine." After a moment of silence, he added: "If you have no means of transport, we can meet at your place."

Prompto blinked at the receiver. Ignis, who adamantly refused to step into Prompto's house whenever he dropped Noctis, willingly coming by? He was almost tempted to say yes, if only to test if the man would be as uncomfortable as Prompto imagined he would be.

But Ignis also was willing to meet face-to-face to tell him the full story that - Prompto already knew - would not be shared to the public. Prompto had honestly believed he would have just gotten a call, or even just a text.

"Thanks for the offer, but I think it's better if we meet elsewhere. Just let me know where."

"My place then, if you don't mind. I will text you the address."


	2. Of hurt stanger becoming friends

Tea was offered more to soothe his own nerves than out of being a good host. Prompto had eagerly accepted a cup anyway, nerves and a touch of anxiety drawing his smile more subtle than usual. Ignis busied himself at the task while Prompto sat. The boy looked surprisingly less nervous than during their other encounter.

Oh, how Ignis wished he could say the same.

From the day Prompto's family name passed Noctis' lips for the first time to today, Ignis had made certain to limit their shared presence to the shortest time-frame he could get away with.

Ignis mused, not for the first time, that Prompto didn't share many physical traits with his father. Where Alenzo had been broad shoulders and tanned skin, Prompto was built like a marathon athlete. He likely took more after his mother, although Ignis wouldn't be able to tell for sure. The poor woman had taken the death of her beloved terribly. She had made quite a scene after the ceremony, blaming the lot of them for using her husband as canon-folder. Uncle Stupeo may have had forbidden him to attend at the time, but the words had reached him all the same, spread like wildfire in the corridors of the Citadel.

The guilt had never left him since. After all, Alenzo had traded his life for Ignis'. If not for him, Prompto would have had his birth father by him, still.

Ignis couldn't blame Prompto if he were to resent him, if not outright hate him. Prompto had also proven to be a fine, honest young man. Ignis hated himself even more for depriving such a beautiful person of one of their parents. He would spare Prompto of being subject to his presence if he could help, no matter how much grief it brought to Noctis.

Today's meeting would be little grievance compared to waiting anxiously for news about Noctis' whereabouts. He knew too well what it felt to spend weeks without knowing if your best friend was alive or dead, with nothing to do but wait and pray. At least, Cor had phoned him as soon as he was allowed. Prompto hadn't been so lucky.

"Are you okay, Ignis?"

He followed Prompto's worried stare and pointedly ignored the tiny mountain of sugar at the bottom of his cup and sipped the now too sweet drink. His own nerves would have made the tea tasteless anyway.

"As good as one can be, considering the circumstances."

"Mood."

Ignis barely held a snort. Mood indeed.

He began to narrate what the press had ignored: how the deamon in the wall in the tunnel near Galdin Quay had appeared overnight, and how the convoy driven by the Glaives turned to be the first to encounter the creature. He felt himself sweating cold whenever he thought of Noctis, all alone, trying to drag the unconscious driver out of the tunnel with a sprained ankle. It was no surprise the deamon had managed to send the both of them flying and crash against the opposite wall.

Faking Noctis dying was all Cor's idea. His guts had been right: the news brought the mole in the glaives to act rashly, allowing Cor to find a lead. A few heads had fallen already, some of them literally, even though how Niffelheim had managed to seed such a powerful daemon in there remained a mystery.

"Wow", Prompto whistled low. Ignis was satisfied to see that the colors , which had vanished from his face at the mention of the daemon, were slowly coming back.

"Because of the whole ordeal, the Council decided this morning that the protection of the Prince was in dire need of reinforcement."

"Noctis is not going to like that."

"Indeed," he complied, then mentally squared his shoulders before delivering the bad news, "they deemed it time for him to have a proper Shield. Gladio is now filling the position."

For a long moment, Prompto remained eerily still. Ignis chose to pour them a second cup of tea so the young man could gather himself.

Gladio, he knew, had become a good friend to Prompto. His own heartbreak was easier to handle knowing he had chosen a similar path for himself, since the position of Chamberlain meant he would die protecting Noctis if the need arose. However Prompto was a civilian and someone who had already lost a father to the Crown. To think he could lose two other friends...his heart constricted in sympathy for the young man's grief.

"Ignis...Noctis is not going to be ok."

"No, he will not." His voice sounded as small as Prompto.

"This...this is literally his worst nightmare coming true."

"Their relationship may be strained in the weeks to come, but we will help them through this rough patch." He didn't question if Prompto wanted to distance himself from the situation. He knew him well enough to understand how deeply loyal the boy was to Noctis.

"We will." The words echoed back with as much confidence as Ignis had expressed them.

Warmth filled Ignis' chest. In times like these, he would never be grateful enough for Prompto being into Noctis 'life.

"But...," The confidence the boy had shown mere seconds ago seemed to falter, only to bounce back fiercer mere seconds after,"I think to do that we should clear the air. I mean - maybe it's just me overthinking - but I think you're avoiding me. "

Ignis's heart stuttered, alas not in the good way.

He had been so stupid to believe he could avoid this conversation forever. Oh, how he had prayed it to be the case.

"And, well. I mean - I'm pretty sure Noctis noticed too. It's hurting him, not being able to spend time with all of us together. You're his best friend." Prompto added, his bold assurance morphing towards something more desperate.

Ignis swallowed the lump impeding his throat. He wouldn't cower in front of his own wrongs. He only had apologies to offer. He doubted Prompto was after something else and Ignis would be happy to oblige, if it came to it.

Then why did it feel like his soul was trembling in fear?

"I don't know what I did wrong and I promise I will do my best to fix it."

"As you are aware, the fault is all mine, and for that I owe you an apology. I acted childishly. It will not happen again."

"That's...good, I guess. Thanks. But that's not what I meant? Did I do something?" Prompto worried. "Or did I say something? I know I run my mouth sometimes and I don't always notice when I say something offensive. I guess we don't have to be friends just because we both hang out with Noct, but it would be nice if we could, so I ever offend you... I'm sorry! I don't think it's fair to avoid me like that though. You could have just told me and I would have..."

"Pompto," he calmly called. As expected, the boy's rambling came to a stop.

"I only assumed it wasn't fair to impose my presence to you, given our shared history."

His heart pounded in his chest, waiting for a reaction for the blond.

But Prompto's face didn't broadcast any anger or disgust. He looked more and more confused, as if Ignis was presenting him a puzzle impossible to solve.

"No offence Ignis, but we absolutely have no shared history. At all."

Was Ignis missing something? Briefly he entertained the thought Prompto was so disgusted by him that he was refuting them being associated altogether. However Prompto was a book of honestly one could easily with a single glance, and his face betrayed nothing but utter incomprehension.

Had Prompto not ...known?

"I was referencing the tragedy that fell upon your father." The words left his lips and sealed his throat.

"My dad is fine though? I don't think he knows you?"

"Your biological father Prompto." He tried not to show his rising irritation. Whether he succeeded or not, Prompto didn't seem to mind, for his expression didn’t change.

Until he blinked twice and his mouth formed a perfect 'o'.

"Dude, are you referring to my mom's first husband?"

"Yes?" Who else did he think...?

"Dude!" Prompto was laughing now. "Talk about misunderstanding!"

Well, Ignis wouldn't have minded if Prompto shared, because he felt like he had entered the rabbit's lair to wonderland and failed to notice.

"I was adopted when I was twelve!" Prompto cheerfully explained, as if Ignis' world hadn't just been turned upside-down. "Mom started dating my dad a little bit after, so I've never known her first husband. Hey, are you okay?"

Ignis, sagged against the back of his chair, nodded.

"Ok now I understand even less."

"Mr. Argentum was the King's shield." The words came out light despite the crushing guilt that had kept them locked for so long. How come they were so easy to say?

"The King was visiting our manor in Tenebrae when Nifelheim attacked us. They set the manor on fire and capture my parents and myself. Mr. Argentum lost his life when he saved me from the enemy."

He fought back the tears. He had spilled too many of them on the matter, more than he deserved. His eyes stung anyway.

"Oh, Iggy."

Something warm grabbed his wrist.

"I know Mom didn't take it well." There was something in Prompto's tone Ignis had never heard before. A mix of unbinded confidence and something he couldn't name. 

"She felt bad for how she reacted, you know? She was happy the Crownsguard gave him a ceremony this nice, and she was happy you were alive, too. She knows it was no one's fault. Well, except the Empire but...you get what I mean?"

Prompto squeezed and it made his heart ache.

"Nonetheless..."

"What? You were a kid. I don't think a good Shield would be the kind of person to leave a kid in danger."

"I know." A smile tugged at his lips. He freed his wrist from Prompto's hold and patted the comforting hand in thanks.

"You would do the same, too!"

"I know," he repeated, daring to look at the blond this time.

Protectiveness. That's what he had felt in Prompto's voice. It reflected in his eyes now, as if to defy the guilt eating at Ignis to manifest somehow. It reminded him of Noctis, who defended so fiercely those who he kept close to his heart.

No doubt as to what those two were friends, he thought fondly. They had the same core.

"I am...happy we had that talk." And to his own surprise, he truly was. His soul felt lighter.

"Man, I thought you just hated me because I had bad manners of something." Prompto's bubbly personality was back. He pointedly ignored how Ignis whipped the dampness under his eyes, for which the Chamberlain felt immensely grateful.

"I knew her first hubby died in service but I'd never imagined he was the King's shield. O-M-Geee! That's why Noctis gave me that 'what the fuck' face the other day! Does he know too?"

"He does, indeed. Although from my understanding he didn't make the link between Sir Argentum and you weeks after your first sleepover. I'm afraid I'm the one to blame again."

Prompto hummed, fingers drumming on his wooden table,and didn't comment any further.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon getting acquainted,as they should have done from the start if Ignis hadn't been so obtuse.

Noctis was still on the mend and locked in the Citadel. The following weeks would undoubtedly prove themselves rough and involved a lot of arguments between his Prince and the new Shield, which he would have to endure if not solve. War kept raging somewhere outside the Wall and Gladio was bound to perish for Noctis' sake, should it not be put to a stop. Which, in all honesty, he doubted would happen in their lifetime.

But he would have the pleasure to witness his oldest friend's face light up months after this fateful afternoon, when he would confirm his participation in their little Yule gathering with Gladio and Prompto.

No one ever mentioned the shift in their relationship, nor how Prompto referred now to him as ‘Iggy”.

Only Noctis, in his roundabout way.

Ignis was washing the pots in the kitchen while Gladio was entertaining Pµrompto in an arm-wrestling match in the living room. Noctis was adding the last empty plates from their copious Yule meal in the dishwater.

He patted at Ignis back once for attention.

"You guys," his voice was fond, "are the best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make Ignis suffer but I'm not sure this was entirely successful. Ignis is so hard to write - I enjoyed writing him a lot though.  
> Comments and kudos fuel my fire! Feedback is life!  
> You think leaving a string of emojis won't make me happy? Uhu. Think twice! ;)


End file.
